


Not Just a Pretty Face

by nate_heywood



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Male Model AU, it’ll make sense when you read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 01:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nate_heywood/pseuds/nate_heywood
Summary: Jonah Simms figured had reached a dead-end in life. Stranded in New York City with no money or job, his two options seemed to be begging on the street for money or returning to Chicago and begging his parents to take him back in. That was, until Garrett, his sardonic roommate, gave him a chance to work at Cloud 9: a bustling community grocery store. However, when he gets involved in the male modeling industry, he abandons his stable job in favor of the game and money he never thought he could have. But, when he runs into some familiar faces in his new job, he’ll have to face tough memories while trying to salvage the shambles of his career.
Relationships: Amy Dubanowski/Jonah Simms, Amy Sosa/ Jonah Simms
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Not Just a Pretty Face

**Author's Note:**

> I’m always looking for new content in this fandom, so I decided to make some of my own.
> 
> Thanks to the friend (you know who you are) who wouldn’t stop begging me to write this. Shoutout to you lmao.

Jonah Simms had long since learned that New York was far from the city of dreams he expected when he moved here. He had become disenchanted with the shinning streets, road-trip of exotic flavors, and variety of interesting characters. All he really wanted to do was get on the soonest plane back to Chicago. However, given that he got fired from both his job as a Broadway usher and as a waiter, things weren't exactly turning up Jonah. 

He wouldn't have even taken two jobs in the first place if he had enough money to go around. Ever since his parents cut him off, he had to make a lot of tough choices. One subway ticket could cost him an entire night of food if he wasn't careful about where he was going.Now, he guessed the choices were going to get a whole lot harder. Having no stable source of income, all thanks to his judgmental bosses, meant a whole lot of credit card denials and a heaping dose of crippling debt. 

The first fire, while disappointing, at least made sense to him. Given how clumsy he was, he was honestly surprised he managed to keep the job. Between the spilled drinks and chipped plates, the only thing that saved him was the absolute negligence of his supervisor. It seemed, the only breaking point the man had was when he spilled an entire bowl of soup onto someone's lap. Although he apologized profusely, he still received his final paycheck just a few days later. He figured he could survive a week with just the funds from his alternate job. 

That was, until, he got fired from that job when the wound was still fresh. According to his visibly disgruntled boss, he had commented too much on how much the show pushed social and political boundaries while shoving playbill into their hands. Apparently, the average Broadway goer preferred flipping through mundane ads in their seat over a detailed explanation. For a city packed to the brim with liberals, he was surprised that any kind of genuine insight was frowned down upon. 

Either way, he was out a job, and, practically, out of a life. He walked around the urine-smelling streets of opportunity, glancing back at the theater a newly unemployed man. Muscle memory guided him alone the packed streets, but the grid system didn't exactly make the whole process that difficult either. He managed to duck and twist his way around the peddlers, who he had long since learned to avoid during his years in the city. The only person he would really take the time to stop for at this point was an environmentally aware college student. He was more than aware himself that wasn't a popular opinion, but he couldn't help it.

Jonah watched as the streets and houses got dingier as he winded his way along. Even with a roommate, the city's steep rent made it impossible to own a place in somewhere less sketchy. For now, he had to settle with mountains of violent graffiti on every surface in the neighborhood.

He rounded the final corner, pushing his way into his apartment complex. Of course, given that there was no way he could pay the rent on his own, he shared the place with his friend, Garrett. He meant friend in the loosest way possible, though. Their relationship constantly cycled between playful teasing and deep expressions of loyalty. To say the least, it was complicated.

He groaned, reading the sign plastered onto the closed elevator doors. For what Jonah could only assume was the fifth time this week, a messily scrawled apology stood in place of an actually functioning elevator. He turned around and began to trek up the stairs behind him. Given that he hadn't done a sport since his failed attempt at college, he supposed his winded huffing made sense. Still, he hoped no one was around to see how pink his flushed face had become.

After a few minutes of clumsily stumbling up the stairs, he reached his apartment. He fumbled for the key in his pocket. After sliding it into the lock, he walked into the cramped area. Garrett didn't even look up from his violent button mashing as Jonah closed the door behind him. 

"So, uh, fun fact," Jonah cleared his throat. 

"If I hear one more thing about the damn turtles," Garrett said, "I'll shove a straw down their throats myself."

"First off, that's 100% animal abuse. Second, you'd be glad to know this has nothing to do with animals. Unless you consider humans animals but that's a whole other can of worms. Hours and hours of talking points. Anyway, I got fired from my job today. Just thought you should know."

Jonah let a gentle sigh slip out, trailing his way over to the couch. Given Garrett's lack of protest (which was honestly the best he could hope for), he took it as a cue to plop down onto the tattered leather. 

"Which one?" Garrett asked. "You know keeping track of your life is like remembering what my Sim ate for breakfast."

"Well, I got fired from the waiter gig last week, and the Broadway thing today," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Seriously, dude?" Alien guts splattered across the screen as he landed a combo. "You gotta pull your weight with the rent."

Despite the grave implications of his words, it was hard for Jonah to take his threat at face value. He didn't even look up as he delivered them. That, as well as his flamboyantly dressed character, caused him to stumble over his words before finally mustering a response.

"You're the one who bought five different copies of mass effect in one day!" He protested. 

"I'm also the one who works his ass off at the store and sells, hopefully not illegal, sneakers to keep us living here," he paused. "I could easily kick you out!"

Jonah groaned, "come on, you can't kick me out. I'm...I'm the activist friend!"

"That makes me wanna kick you out even more."

Jonah held up his hands, pushing off the couch. It was as if the thoughts spinning around in his mind were somehow the fuel that propelled him upward.

"I have an idea," he announced with all the triumph of a superhero that just saved an entire city.

"Related you kicking you out? Because I've had plenty of those too, buddy."

He rubbed his hands together, mouth open for what he was sure would be an embarrassing, stuttered- out retort. Instead, Jonah bit his tongue and continued with a small wince. 

"No. Related to working and not being a complete deadweight around here. Didn't you say two people stopped working at your store a few days ago?"

The blaring soundtrack of Garrett's video game came to a sudden stop. Jonah glanced over at his hand, hovering almost intently over one of the buttons on the controller. Paired perfectly with the focus in his hands, Garrett's eyebrows and face also scrunched together into a pensive expression. Jonah couldn't help but wondering why he was thinking so hard. Either it was a larger store than Jonah anticipated, or Garrett had a horrible memory for people he talked to every day. Neither seemed particularly good to him. 

"I think you're right. I haven't seen Bill in a while. Pretty sure he mentioned something about breaking his penis. I didn't even know that was possible. I think Carol quit after she tried to claim that selling kiwi vape pens was the same as selling the actual fruit." Garrett explained. 

Jonah snickered, holding a hand over his mouth. 

"Don't laugh, it was very tragic. They both thought there was nothing funny about the situation, so I couldn't make fun of them. Fair is fair, so neither can you," Garrett chuckled.

"I think I could work there! I won't have either of those issues."

Jonah's enthusiastic and hopeful tone was a little out of place for the apartment. After all, Garrett's pessimism usually prospered when it came down to it, especially given the fact Jonah spent more time at his 'cultural events' than at home. He assumed that was just the way Garrett liked it. A bit of peace and quiet meant he could yell into his microphone as loud as he wanted when his character died. That was, until, the inevitable Mrs. Chanderberry came knocking on his door and pleading with him to quiet down for the sake of her cats.

Today it was Jonah's time to be loud. His voice almost echoed through the small area, carrying through even the small indent in the walls where the rats likely lived and the door that wouldn't budge with endless prying.

"I don't know, man. Broken penis can get to anyone, but a young, pasty white boy just trying his best? I don't see what could go wrong," Garrett rolled his eyes.

"So you think I should try for the job?"

"Well, I think I was being sarcastic, but it's not like I'd stop you," he replied.

Jonah stood up a little straighter. He could practically feel the excitement urging every one of his limbs to fidget. He felt like a ticking time bomb, but without the deadly explosion. Meanwhile, Garrett sat, practically motionless, on the couch, with a complacent expression that couldn't contrast more with Jonah's blooming smile.

"Great," Jonah said, wringing his hands together. "How do I set up an interview?"

"Oh, young padawan. There is no interview. Just roll up to the place and ask to speak with the manager. Dodge the crying babies in the front and people's fake service dogs we have them leave outside. She's usually over on the left," Garrett explained.

"Cool, and, uh, where is the store in the first place exactly?"

Garret pulled a hand to his chest in exaggerated shock, "don't even shop there? Pro tip: wouldn't mention that to the manager. What, are you too busy your Komabucha and organic goat cheese?"

"Ugh, I wish," Jonah groaned out, further confirming the stereotype Garrett placed upon him. "But that one will have to remain in my dreams. I'm a million percent broke."

"Now there's the boy I raised."

"We're almost the same age," Jonah protested.

"Do you want to know where the store is or not?" 

Jonah fumbled for a response before crossing his arms and nodding. The longer Garrett went without responding, the wider trajectory the motion took on. It was like a never ending game of cat and mouse. Although Jonah was now convinced he was messing with him, he continued to see whether annoyance or humor from the situation would coerce him into spilling the information. 

"If that's the case, you gotta go along with what I say," the stop to Jonah's nodding prompted Garrett to continue. "It's on the corner of 47th and Roosevelt."

"Dude, that's literally a block away from here."

"Why else do you think I'd buy this apartment? It sucks ass. It's just that the wheelchair doesn't exactly make it easy to go long distances. I wouldn't even tell you about this gold mine, but, honestly, I felt bad. Plus, it's a two for one," Garrett replied.

"A two for one?"

"Yeah. Not only are you helping to pay the rent, you're actually getting out of my hair for once."

A smile grew on Jonah's face, "you know you love me."

He shuffled over to the door, throwing it open with all the drama of a musical style. Although Garrett seemed unfazed by this, he still fought to be heard over the humming of the broken air conditioner as Jonah exited. He barely heard the muffled exclamation of 'in your dreams!' as he slammed the door behind him. Letting a deep breath puff up his chest and hoping that would bring him enough confidence to make it through the day (or at least the hour), he set off. 

He sprinted down the stairs, leaping across two at a time. Given his egregious lack of coordination, he was surprised he didn't fall flat on his face, or least twist his ankle. Eventually, he ended up back on the streets. Yet, this time, as he pushed his way through the crowded streets, he hardly even noticed the stench of urine or the multiple panhandlers along his route. He wasn't sure whether the pep in his step or his new perspective was more exaggeratedly positive.

Given that he considered himself at least mildly observant, he was surprised he hadn't noticed the store before Garrett informed him of it. Although it was small in stature, looking as if it had been hastily shoved between the two other buildings, the crowd was not. There were so many people milling in and out of the store that Jonah swore, if he lined them all up, a person would represent every nationality and walk of life. 

He glanced up, squinting against the blazing sun. He managed to make out a sign, strung up precariously on the ledge of the building. The loopy handwriting which adorned it seemed to spell out the words 'Cloud 9'. He briefly hazarded a thought that he might have reached Heaven, but he pushed it out of his mind. He was fairly certain Heaven wouldn't include the stink of rotting trash and constant elbowing in the ribs as he stood in the crowd.

Swallowing a lump he didn't even realize was growing in his throat, he pushed his way inside. He almost got speared by an automatic door on way in, but managed to clear it without much of an issue. Unfortunately, his false sense of security, caused him to halt in his spot right in front of the door. Despite the people staggering over him, he still only took a few shaky steps forward as his eyes raked over the area. 

The shelves contained more of an explosion of color than time his high school theater troop tie-dyed all their shirts. A variety of products with bright packaging and catchy slogans practically popped off the shelves. He had never seen a place so chaotic, yet simultaneously so organized. The products overflowed from the shelves and children ran, screaming, with unknown substances smeared across their hands. However, even the most unruly products seemed to be carefully slotted in its place, and even the most unmanageable of lines had some semblance of order. He couldn't help but want to take in more details. He felt as if the place was a library he could explore and get lost in for hours.

He hardly staggered past the checkout woman when he looked down to see an elderly woman tugging on his sleeve.

"Excuse me, sir," she rasped. "Do you work here?"

Jonah paused, mouth hanging slightly agape as he fumbled for a response. Of course, he wasn't actually employed at the store, but it was what he hoped for in his future. Besides, a little bending of the truth never hurt anyone too badly, or at least he liked to think so. The paramount thing in his mind was how he could make a good impression. He figured that there was no better way to show his loyalty and work experience than doing a task he would do on the daily. Trying to cut off the awkward silence, he blurted out a response.

"Yeah....uh, I sure do."

Either she didn't register his hesitance or didn't care, as she simply continued as if nothing was good. He sincerely hoped she never got caught in a dark alley at night or something because she clearly wasn't very good at spotting red flags.

"Can you reach that jar?" She asked.

Jonah wasn't short by any means, but the shelves seemed to be stacked to the ceiling. He practically didn't view it as an option, though, to deny the lady. He could only imagine how much of a stain on his application it would be if the woman stormed to the manager screaming about her disappointing experience.

He propped himself up on the bottom of the shelf by planting a sneaker on its surface. From there, he gripped onto the top shelf until his knuckles turned white. Once he was convinced he wouldn't embarrassingly fall onto his back, he extended his other hand. He fished for the jar he saw earlier, failing his hand around until it ran into something vaguely cylindrical. 

Since Jonah would consider himself somewhat of an optimist, he usually brought up the good news first. That being said, when he lowered his hand, the desired jar _was_ in it. However, another jar toppled onto the linoleum floor. As soon as it made contact, the glass shattered. Chunks of what appeared to be hearts of palm were scattered across the ground, along with the liquid they were preserved in. It pooled on the ground with the glass shards and hearts of palm like a dangerous and disgusting soup. 

He scrambled to try to clean up the mess exploded across the ground but halted his motion just as quickly as he started it. It only then occurred to him that glass would injure him if he were to pick it up with his bare hands. He folded his arms over his chest awkwardly, thinking of something he could do. Unfortunately, the best thought he came up with was lying over the wreckage until everyone forgot about it. Needless to say, he couldn't really come up with anything better to do than stand there helplessly with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

A Latina woman rounded the corner, hands placed firmly on her hips. Jonah would consider himself a complete feminist, but he couldn't deny that the woman was objectively beautiful. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, perfectly framing her defined face. He guessed the scowl wasn't a permanent fixture due to the small wrinkles around her lips. Jonah was no detective, but he had only ever seen that facial feature on the chronic smilers among his friends.

As weird as it sounded, he could have spent a lot longer staring at her and taking in her features. Yet, he was more concerned with the authoritative words slipping out of her lips.

"You know he rules, Esther. You break it, you buy it."

The lady pointed a hooked finger over at Jonah, "I brought my contacts today. He was the one who broke it."

Who knew old ladies could be so vindictive? No sooner was she asking him to help her than she was throwing him under the bus. Unfortunately, that left him with an even more awkward situation. He had to find a way to justify his clumsy actions in a way that made him out to be at least a halfway decent employee. He couldn't come up with anything but affirmations for her statement, so he just decided to run with it.

"Yeah, uh, I did it. I broke your hearts...s of palm."

She scoffed at the poorly executed pun, "it's your loss. At this point, you can either pay for them or eat them off the ground."

He paused for a moment. "Is that a genuine option? Because I honestly have negative money in my bank account and can't tell whether or not you're joking."

"Then what are you doing at a grocery store?"

"Well," he took a deep breath. " I was actually hoping to apply for a job here, but I'm getting the feeling I should probably just go"

"You can have it." She shrugged. "If you want."

"Seriously?" 

"Garret told me, and these are his words, not mine, that a broke, clumsy idiot would be coming in to apply. Before you murder him, he also told me you're a hard worker. Not that many people that apply here are."

"Woah, rude. I mean that was just rude in general. To everyone."

"So you want the job?"

He hesitated for a moment, "Yeah, what could go wrong?"

Little did Jonah know that those simple words could change the course of his entire life.


End file.
